


emptiness to melody

by limehoneytea



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: (off-key kazoo) its a MeNtAL bReAkdOwn, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, I love Baz so much it physically hurt me to write him like this, M/M, POV Third Person Limited, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Title from a Hozier Song, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Bad at Feelings, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Needs a Hug, Violinist Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, a lesson on not bottling up your emotions, but very very good at magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 14:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21303494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limehoneytea/pseuds/limehoneytea
Summary: Baz is only seventeen and though he knows just how impossible it is to not think about Simon Snow, he’s yet to believe it. So, he tries. He wills his fingers to go faster and moves his head along with the music.He feels nothing and everything all at once.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 6
Kudos: 99





	emptiness to melody

**Author's Note:**

> • title based on "To Noise Making (Sing!)" by Hozier
> 
> • they're in their seventh year of Watford in this but Simon and Agatha aren't together because cheating is shitty :)

The steady vibrations of the violin emit a gentle sort of solace. Baz rests his chin and closes his eyes, letting his hands follow the same pattern they have for years. The world melts away: the room he shares with Snow that feels more like home than Hampshire ever had, the lingering scent of Snow’s magic intertwined with his own, and the faint traces of blood that never seems to leave his tongue. 

He likes it like this: not having to think about the world, and the path he has to follow. How he has to fight Snow and preferably die by his hands. He's trying not to think. About how Snow detests him and if he were on fire and Snow had water, he would drink it. About how he really wants to have a cry and get over it and about how he isn’t sure crying is even allowed for the likes of him.

He wants to drift away but, being fully untethered is just slightly less than terrifying and grasping at the thin string of the vibrations trailing from his chin to his cheekbones is the sole comfort from the world he holds on to when he’s like this. 

It makes him feel alive, not just undead, but  _ living _ . Simon Snow is the most alive person he’s met but closing his eyes and letting music drip from his fingertips makes him feel like he’s not much far behind. 

He thinks of Simon Snow, his plain blue eyes that shouldn’t be so endearing and the freckles sprayed on his body. This isn’t right, he’s not supposed to be thinking about anything. All feeling is supposed to leave him when he does this, it has in the past, but Baz is only seventeen and though he knows just how impossible it is to not think about Simon Snow, he’s yet to believe it.

So, he tries. He wills his fingers to go faster and moves his head along with the music. The vibrations follow him, of course, but they feel less safe now. 

He’s drifting, and his tether is strung so tight it just might snap.

He’s drifting and he’s pouring everything he has into the pressure of the strings and the sliding of the bow. He can feel himself warming up but it’s not the kind of warmth you get from a warm fire or a cozy quilt. He’s warming up like he’s about to cast a spell, like his magic is just itching to burst and he’s failing to hold it back.

He’s drifting, and he’s drifting, and he’s drifting. The vibrations seem less present now, and he feels nothing and everything all at once.

There’s something in the back of his mind. A small voice in his head. “Baz.”

He feels the tether again and the vibrations are crawling from his chin to his cheekbones. “Baz.”

The voice seems to have escaped from his head because he hears it coming from right in front of him. “Baz.”

The smell of magic is back and it’s stronger than it ever has been before. It almost drowns out the taste of blood on his tongue but not quite. “Baz!”

His eyes snap open.

Simon Snow is standing in front of him and he’s washed with the brightest light Baz has ever seen. It doesn’t really flatter his complexion but he’s squinting and his face is scrunched up in that adorable way of his as he steps forward slowly and cautiously, a freckled hand shielding his eyes, and he looks _beautiful_. “Baz!” he says again as if it’s the only word he knows and Baz let’s the bow distance itself from the strings mid-song and he lets his hands drop.

He looks down at them, his usually pale grey hands, and he realizes that he’s glowing. Bright light is emitting from his skin in a messy honeycomb pattern. He looks up at Snow again and sees his face soften. He doesn’t know why until he feels a drop of liquid fall onto his collarbone. 

He’s crying and the realization only makes him cry more.

“Baz, what’s happening?” Snow asks, inching closer.

Baz lets his violin and the bow drop onto the floor. If he was in his right mind, he would have winced at his poor treatment but he’s crying harder than he ever remembers crying and he falls to his knees.

The light, though still bright, is lessening in intensity and Snow finally makes his way to Baz, falling onto his knees so they could face each other, and placing his hands firmly on Baz’ shoulder.

Baz may have lost his old tether but he’s determined to keep his new one. Simon Snow’s warm hands cupped around his shoulder bones, gripping tightly but not uncomfortably so, holds him down to the world and lets him breathe.

He hadn’t realized how fast he was breathing until he slows them down. He counts his breaths as best he can but this has never happened before and Baz is afraid.

The light dies down and the messy honeycomb fades from Baz’s skin. He heaves a sigh and does something he would never even consider if he was in his right mind. He springs forward, into Snow, and rests his forehead against his shoulder. 

Snow, to his credit, doesn’t freak out and push him away. Instead, he gathers Baz in his arm like he’s something precious and delicate to be held and cards his fingers through Baz’s hair so softly, it makes him want to cry again. 

Baz sniffles and pulls away though every part of his body is telling him to stay and offers Snow an uneasy smile. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I don’t know what that was,” he says honestly, just because he doesn’t have the energy or the will to be mean anymore. 

Snow stares at him and his plain blue eyes make Baz want to gaze into them for eternity. But he doesn’t, he can’t let himself do something so self-indulgent, he doesn’t deserve it. He tries for a sneer but even he can tell that it doesn’t quite get there. “Freak show’s over, Snow,” he says, going for biting but coming off as hurt.

“You’re not a freak,” Snow says quickly, springing forward to cradle Baz’s face in his hands. The tips of Baz’s cheeks go red and he curses the rats for allowing this to happen. 

Snow seems to appreciate it though, and he even wears a matching one around the freckles of his cheeks. “Baz, you’re not a freak,” he says again. “You just cast a spell without speaking. That was incredible.”

“Snow,” Baz manages because he fears that if he tries to say anything else, he’ll admit his love for him right then and there.

Snow pauses and Baz can see him trying to decide whether or not he should say something on his mind. Snow meets his eyes again and it seems like he’s made a decision. “Baz,  _ you’re _ incredible.”

“Simon,” Baz mutters, leaning into one of the warm, freckled hands cradling his face. He’s never been cradled like this before, not as far as he remembers, and it makes him feel warmth blooming somewhere deep in his chest.

Simon stares into his eyes again and Baz feels like his soul is being inspected. He licks his lips and Baz feels like he might die; humans (or part-mage and part-vampire blokes) weren’t made to contain this many feelings.

Simon darts forward and envelops Baz’s lips in a kiss.

Baz is finally convinced this isn’t one of his fantasies because he knows his brain isn’t capable of this. Baz doesn’t have much of a frame of reference but Simon’s lips are to die for and he does this thing with his chin that makes Baz want to melt into a puddle, so he thinks it’s safe to assume that Simon is a good kisser. 

They break apart and Baz breathes in deeply, searching Simon’s eyes for regrets and only finding something soft and gentle and so entirely  _ Simon  _ that Baz whispers his name like it’s a prayer and pulls him in for another kiss. 

He feels Simon smile into the kiss and dig his fingers into Baz’s hair, humming against his lips contently. The vibrations crawl from his lips to his cheekbones and the gentle solace emitting from Simon Snow’s soft lips serve as a better tether than anything else in the world. 

**Author's Note:**

> Recently, a violinist friend of mine tried to teach me how to play a few notes on the violin (keep in mind that I hadn't ever even touched a violin before) and the vibrations that came from the chin-rest(?) were super unexpected for some reason but really relaxing and that formed this idea. I love the thought of Baz being a powerhouse (not like Simon-level but not that far behind) so I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it :)


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